Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

THE SIGN OF FOUR: Chapter 8 THE BAKER STREET IRREGULARS

"WHAT now?" I asked. "Toby has lost his character for infallibility.""He acted according to his lights," said Holmes, lifting him down fromthe barrel and walking him out of the timber-yard. "If you consider howmuch creosote is carted about London in one day, it is no great wonderthat our trail should have been crossed. It is much used now, especiallyfor the seasoning of wood. Poor Toby is not to blame.""We must get on the main scent again, I suppose.""Yes. And, fortunately, we have no distance to go. Evidently whatpuzzled the dog at the corner of Knight's Place was that there were twodifferent trails running in opposite directions. We took the wrong one. Itonly remains to follow the other."There was no difficulty about this. On leading Toby to the place wherehe [123] had committed his fault, he cast about in a wide circle and finallydashed off in a fresh direction."We must take care that he does not now bring us to the place wherethe creosote-barrel came from," I observed."I had thought of that. But you notice that he keeps on the pavement,whereas the barrel passed down the roadway. No, we are on the true scentnow."It tended down towards the riverside, running through Belmont Placeand Prince's Street. At the end of Broad Street it ran right down to thewater's edge, where there was a small wooden wharf. Toby led us to thevery edge of this and there stood whining, looking out on the dark currentbeyond."We are out of luck," said Holmes. "They have taken to a boat here."Several small punts and skiffs were lying about in the water and on theedge of the wharf. We took Toby round to each in turn, but though hesniffed earnestly he made no sign.Close to the rude landing-stage was a small brick house, with a woodenplacard slung out through the second window. "Mordecai Smith" wasprinted across it in large letters, and, underneath, "Boats to hire by thehour or day." A second inscription above the door informed us that asteam launch was kept-a statement which was confirmed by a great pileof coke upon the jetty. Sherlock Holmes looked slowly round, and hisface assumed an ominous expression."This looks bad," said he. "These fellows are sharper than I expected.They seem to have covered their tracks. There has, I fear, beenpreconcerted management here."He was approaching the door of the house, when it opened, and a little curly-headed lad of six came running out, followed by a stoutish, redfaced woman with a large sponge in her hand."You come back and be washed, Jack," she shouted. "Come back, youyoung imp; for if your father comes home and finds you like that he'll letus hear of it.""Dear little chap!" said Holmes strategically. "What a rosy-cheekedyoung rascal! Now, Jack, is there anything you would like?"The youth pondered for a moment."I'd like a shillin'," said he."Nothing you would like better?""I'd like two shillin' better," the prodigy answered after some thought."Here you are, then! Catch!-A fine child, Mrs. Smith!""Lor' bless you, sir, he is that, and forward. He gets a'most too muchfor me to manage, 'specially when my man is away days at a time.""Away, is he?" said Holmes in a disappointed voice. "I am sorry forthat, for I wanted to speak to Mr. Smith.""He's been away since yesterday mornin', sir, and, truth to tell, I ambeginnin' to feel frightened about him. But if it was about a boat, sir,maybe I could serve as well.""I wanted to hire his steam launch.""Why, bless you, sir, it is in the steam launch that he has gone. That'swhat puzzles me; for I know there ain't more coals in her than would takeher to about Woolwich and back. If he's been away in the barge I'd ha' thought nothin'; for many a time a job has taken him as far as Gravesend,and then if there was much doin' there he might ha' stayed over. But whatgood is a steam launch without coals?"[124] "He might have bought some at a wharf down the river.""He might, sir, but it weren't his way. Many a time I've heard him callout at the prices they charge for a few odd bags. Besides, I don't like thatwooden-legged man, wi' his ugly face and outlandish talk. What did hewant always knockin' about here for?""A wooden-legged man?" said Holmes with bland surprise."Yes, sir, a brown, monkey-faced chap that's called more'n once formy old man. It was him that roused him up yesternight, and, what's more,my man knew he was comin', for he had steam up in the launch. I tell youstraight, sir, I don't feel easy in my mind about it.""But, my dear Mrs. Smith," said Holmes, shrugging his shoulders, "youare frightening yourself about nothing. How could you possibly tell that itwas the wooden-legged man who came in the night? I don't quiteunderstand how you can be so sure.""His voice, sir. I knew his voice, which is kind o' thick and foggy. Hetapped at the winder-about three it would be. 'Show a leg, matey,' sayshe: 'time to turn out guard.' My old man woke up Jim-that's myeldest-and away they went without so much as a word to me. I could hearthe wooden leg clackin' on the stones.""And was this wooden-legged man alone?""Couldn't say, I am sure, sir. I didn't hear no one else.""I am sorry, Mrs. Smith, for I wanted a steam launch, and I have heardgood reports of the- - Let me see, what is her name?""The Aurora, sir.""Ah! She's not that old green launch with a yellow line, very broad inthe beam?""No, indeed. She's as trim a little thing as any on the river. She's beenfresh painted, black with two red streaks.""Thanks. I hope that you will hear soon from Mr. Smith. I am goingdown the river, and if I should see anything of the Aurora I shall let himknow that you are uneasy. A black funnel, you say?""No, sir. Black with a white band.""Ah, of course. It was the sides which were black. Good-morning, Mrs.Smith. There is a boatman here with a wherry, Watson. We shall take itand cross the river.""The main thing with people of that sort," said Holmes as we sat in thesheets of the wherry, "is never to let them think that their information canbe of the slightest importance to you. If you do they will instantly shut uplike an oyster. If you listen to them under protest, as it were, you are verylikely to get what you want.""Our course now seems pretty clear," said I."What would you do, then?""I would engage a launch and go down the river on the track of theAurora.""My dear fellow, it would be a colossal task. She may have touched atany wharf on either side of the stream between here and Greenwich. Below the bridge there is a perfect labyrinth of landing-places for miles. Itwould take you days and days to exhaust them if you set about it alone.""Employ the police, then.""No. I shall probably call Athelney Jones in at the last moment. He isnot a bad fellow, and I should not like to do anything which would injurehim professionally. [125] But I have a fancy for working it out myself,now that we have gone so far.""Could we advertise, then, asking for information from wharfingers?""Worse and worse! Our men would know that the chase was hot at theirheels, and they would be off out of the country. As it is, they are likelyenough to leave, but as long as they think they are perfectly safe they willbe in no hurry. Jones's energy will be of use to us there, for his view ofthe case is sure to push itself into the daily press, and the runaways willthink that everyone is off on the wrong scent.""What are we to do, then?" I asked as we landed near MillbankPenitentiary."Take this hansom, drive home, have some breakfast, and get an hour'ssleep. It is quite on the cards that we may be afoot to-night again. Stop ata telegraph office, cabby! We will keep Toby, for he may be of use to usyet."We pulled up at the Great Peter Street Post-Office, and Holmesdispatched his wire."Whom do you think that is to?" he asked as we resumed our journey."I am sure I don't know.""You remember the Baker Street division of the detective police forcewhom I employed in the Jefferson Hope case?""Well," said I, laughing."This is just the case where they might be invaluable. If they fail I haveother resources, but I shall try them first. That wire was to my dirty littlelieutenant, Wiggins, and I expect that he and his gang will be with usbefore we have finished our breakfast."It was between eight and nine o'clock now, and I was conscious of astrong reaction after the successive excitements of the night. I was limpand weary, befogged in mind and fatigued in body. I had not theprofessional enthusiasm which carried my companion on, nor could I lookat the matter as a mere abstract intellectual problem. As far as the death ofBartholomew Sholto went, I had heard little good of him and could feelno intense antipathy to his murderers. The treasure, however, was adifferent matter. That, or part of it, belonged rightfully to Miss Morstan.While there was a chance of recovering it I was ready to devote my life tothe one object. True, if I found it, it would probably put her foreverbeyond my reach. Yet it would be a petty and selfish love which would beinfluenced by such a thought as that. If Holmes could work to find thecriminals, I had a tenfold stronger reason to urge me on to find thetreasure.A bath at Baker Street and a complete change freshened me upwonderfully. When I came down to our room I found the breakfast laidand Holmes pouring out the coffee."Here it is," said he, laughing and pointing to an open newspaper. "The energetic Jones and the ubiquitous reporter have fixed it up betweenthem. But you have had enough of the case. Better have your ham andeggs first."I took the paper from him and read the short notice, which was headed"Mysterious Business at Upper Norwood."About twelve o'clock last night [said the Standard] Mr.Bartholomew Sholto, of Pondicherry Lodge, Upper Norwood, wasfound dead in his room under circumstances which point to foulplay. As far as we can learn, no actual traces of violence werefound upon Mr. Sholto's person, but a valuable collection ofIndian gems which the deceased gentleman had inherited [126]from his father has been carried off. The discovery was first madeby Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, who had called at thehouse with Mr. Thaddeus Sholto, brother of the deceased. By asingular piece of good fortune, Mr. Athelney Jones, the wellknown member of the detective police force, happened to be at theNorwood police station and was on the ground within half an hourof the first alarm. His trained and experienced faculties were atonce directed towards the detection of the criminals, with thegratifying result that the brother, Thaddeus Sholto, has alreadybeen arrested, together with the housekeeper, Mrs. Bernstone, anIndian butler named Lal Rao, and a porter, or gatekeeper, namedMcMurdo. It is quite certain that the thief or thieves were wellacquainted with the house, for Mr. Jones's well-known technicalknowledge and his powers of minute observation have enabledhim to prove conclusively that the miscreants could not haveentered by the door or by the window but must have made theirway across the roof of the building, and so through a trapdoor intoa room which communicated with that in which the body wasfound. This fact, which has been very clearly made out, provesconclusively that it was no mere haphazard burglary. The promptand energetic action of the officers of the law shows the greatadvantage of the presence on such occasions of a single vigorousand masterful mind. We cannot but think that it supplies anargument to those who would wish to see our detectives more decentralized, and so brought into closer and more effective touchwith the cases which it is their duty to investigate."Isn't it gorgeous!" said Holmes, grinning over his coffee cup. "Whatdo you think of it?""I think that we have had a close shave ourselves of being arrested forthe crime.""So do I. I wouldn't answer for our safety now if he should happen tohave another of his attacks of energy."At this moment there was a loud ring at the bell, and I could hear Mrs.Hudson, our landlady, raising her voice in a wail of expostulation anddismay."By heavens, Holmes," I said, half rising, "I believe that they are really after us.""No, it's not quite so bad as that. It is the unofficial force-the BakerStreet irregulars."As he spoke, there came a swift pattering of naked feet upon the stairs,a clatter of high voices, and in rushed a dozen dirty and ragged little streetArabs. There was some show of discipline among them, despite theirtumultuous entry, for they instantly drew up in line and stood facing uswith expectant faces. One of their number, taller and older than the others,stood forward with an air of lounging superiority which was very funny insuch a disreputable little scarecrow."Got your message, sir," said he, "and brought 'em on sharp. Three boband a tanner for tickets.""Here you are," said Holmes, producing some silver. "In future theycan report to you, Wiggins, and you to me. I cannot have the houseinvaded in this way. However, it is just as well that you should all hearthe instructions. I want to find the whereabouts of a steam launch calledthe Aurora, owner Mordecai Smith, black with two red streaks, funnelblack with a white band. She is down the river somewhere. I want oneboy to be at Mordecai Smith's landing-stage opposite [127] Millbank tosay if the boat comes back. You must divide it out among yourselves anddo both banks thoroughly. Let me know the moment you have news. Isthat all clear?""Yes, guv'nor," said Wiggins."The old scale of pay, and a guinea to the boy who finds the boat.Here's a day in advance. Now off you go!"He handed them a shilling each, and away they buzzed down the stairs,and I saw them a moment later streaming down the street."If the launch is above water they will find her," said Holmes as he rosefrom the table and lit his pipe. "They can go everywhere, see everything,overhear everyone. I expect to hear before evening that they have spottedher. In the meanwhile, we can do nothing but await results. We cannotpick up the broken trail until we find either the Aurora or Mr. MordecaiSmith.""Toby could eat these scraps, I dare say. Are you going to bed,Holmes?""No: I am not tired. I have a curious constitution. I never rememberfeeling tired by work, though idleness exhausts me completely. I amgoing to smoke and to think over this queer business to which my fairclient has introduced us. If ever man had an easy task, this of ours oughtto be. Wooden-legged men are not so common, but the other man must, Ishould think, be absolutely unique.""That other man again!""I have no wish to make a mystery of him to you, anyway. But youmust have formed your own opinion. Now, do consider the data.Diminutive footmarks, toes never fettered by boots, naked feet, stoneheaded wooden mace, great agility, small poisoned darts. What do youmake of all this?""A savage!" I exclaimed. "Perhaps one of those Indians who were theassociates of Jonathan Small." "Hardly that," said he. "When first I saw signs of strange weapons Iwas inclined to think so, but the remarkable character of the footmarkscaused me to reconsider my views. Some of the inhabitants of the IndianPeninsula are small men, but none could have left such marks as that. TheHindoo proper has long and thin feet. The sandal-wearing Mohammedanhas the great toe well separated from the others because the thong iscommonly passed between. These little darts, too, could only be shot inone way. They are from a blow-pipe. Now, then, where are we to find oursavage?""South America," I hazarded.He stretched his hand up and took down a bulky volume from the shelf."This is the first volume of a gazetteer which is now being published. Itmay be looked upon as the very latest authority. What have we here?"Andaman Islands, situated 340 miles to the north of Sumatra,in the Bay of Bengal.Hum! hum! What's all this? Moist climate, coral reefs, sharks, PortBlair, convict barracks, Rutland Island, cottonwoods- - Ah, here we are!"The aborigines of the Andaman Islands may perhaps claim thedistinction of being the smallest race upon this earth, though someanthropologists prefer the Bushmen of Africa, the Digger Indiansof America, and the Terra del Fuegians. The average height israther below four feet, although many full-grown adults may befound who are very much smaller than this. [128] They are a fierce,morose, and intractable people, though capable of forming mostdevoted friendships when their confidence has once been gained.Mark that, Watson. Now, then listen to this."They are naturally hideous, having large, misshapen heads,small fierce eyes, and distorted features. Their feet and hands,however, are remarkably small. So intractable and fierce are they,that all the efforts of the British officials have failed to win themover in any degree. They have always been a terror to shipwreckedcrews, braining the survivors with their stone-headed clubs orshooting them with their poisoned arrows. These massacres areinvariably concluded by a cannibal feast.Nice, amiable people, Watson! If this fellow had been left to his ownunaided devices, this affair might have taken an even more ghastly turn. Ifancy that, even as it is, Jonathan Small would give a good deal not tohave employed him.""But how came he to have so singular a companion?""Ah, that is more than I can tell. Since, however, we had alreadydetermined that Small had come from the Andamans, it is not so verywonderful that this islander should be with him. No doubt we shall know all about it in time. Look here, Watson; you look regularly done. Liedown there on the sofa and see if I can put you to sleep."He took up his violin from the corner, and as I stretched myself out hebegan to play some low, dreamy, melodious air-his own, no doubt, for hehad a remarkable gift for improvisation. I have a vague remembrance ofhis gaunt limbs, his earnest face and the rise and fall of his bow. Then Iseemed to be floated peacefully away upon a soft sea of sound until Ifound myself in dreamland, with the sweet face of Mary Morstan lookingdown upon me.